


Web Tied Asides

by Zeef



Series: Web Tied [3]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeef/pseuds/Zeef
Summary: This is where prompts will be filled and other scenes that did not make the other stories will be placed. All of the stories and scenes take place within the Web Tied universe, they're just ones that were prompted or couldn't make the cut for one reason or another! Enjoy!
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega, Wilbur Cross & John McNamara, Xander Lee/John McNamara
Series: Web Tied [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709149
Comments: 38
Kudos: 66





	1. The Hive Needs to Feed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's scene from the first chapter in Xander's perspective as requested by Tyrala1 on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Tyrala for requesting this! You're a good friend and I'm happy to share this with you finally. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warnings: sad, temporary character death with the recovery seen in Web Tied Hearts

Shit.

Xander rubbed his eyes, stressed out of his mind. They hadn't slept, not after the meteor landed and the infection began to spread. PEIP knew that the meteor was coming but they had no way of knowing the spores were on it. They'd been suspicious of its direction and estimated crash location, but they had no way to plan. The lack of planning stressed him, the growing infection stressed him, and Xander didn't know what to do.

John had been sent out with a brigade of soldiers and orders to kill everyone roughly two hours previously. He knew when they got home, John would shut down, distraught from the massacre he was ordered to take part in. Xander didn't doubt John would find a way around the ruling, Xander himself had already planned a way around the order in order to hopefully cure the infection, but they had no idea if anyone was still alive in the town. If there was, and John mistook them, killed them on accident? John would surely be down for the count for days from grief.

They would get through it, John would be fine. If they could save the town they would, if they couldn't they would find an excuse. They had to have hope, they had to have faith. If they believed there was hope they had a chance. They knew next to nothing about the infection, about the Hive, so there very well could be a way to fix the problem that didn't involve killing innocents.

Xander jumped at the sound of his phone ringing, and fumbled to take it out. He was surprised by the name on the screen. They weren't supposed to make personal calls while on missions, but there was John, calling him out of nowhere. "John? You can't call me while you're on a mission, you know that," he said quietly.

John didn't respond. John was always prompt, especially in situations like this. Xander loved the way John spoke, you never wondered what he truthfully felt or meant because he was always direct. He hated breaking rules for little things so this was important. The silence continued on, making him more worried. If John wasn't being direct and prompt while on a mission, something was incredibly wrong.

"John? John, what's wrong?" Xander asked, an edge of concern now in his voice.

Why wasn't he speaking? His breathing was labored, he sounded as though he was in pain. Xander tried to breathe, but he could feel the dread growing, threatening to drown him in fear. Then he began to cough, clearly coughing something up from the sounds of it and Xander wasn’t sure there was anything more terrifying. "John! Talk to me, what's happening?!"

"Xan," John grunted, followed by a banging sound. "I'm infected. The entire brigade is gone. Don't trust the helicopter. Should have two citizens, if they survive to get on it."

"You're-..." Xander paused and took a deep breath. He had to remain strong, he had to support his husband. This was very possibly a death sentence, his husband was dying while on the phone with him. Xander couldn’t let his emotions take over, he had to provide stability for John. "Okay. It's going to be okay, John, just fight it. Okay? I'm here. I'm ordering for a larger group to get to your location. You're going to be fine, we'll figure it out. You-"

"No cure," John mumbled, his voice sounding further away like he’d lost the strength to hold the phone to his face. "Eyes burn. Webby gone. No fight."

"John, no, you'd better not," Xander cried, unable to stop the tears from falling from his eyes. He wanted to stay strong but his husband was dying on the other side of the phone, all alone somewhere in hiding as an evil force took over his mind. He was gaining the attention of the room, but he didn’t care. "You can't give up, that's not what you do. You fight, God damn it. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met, you can't stop that now."

Schaeffer quickly walked over to him, confusion and panic clear in her eyes because she knew there was only one thing that could get this sort of reaction out of Xander. She mouthed, “What?” but didn’t look like she expected Xander to reply.

"I love you," John whispered melodically

God, he was singing, he was singing. John wasn’t supposed to sing, not now, not with this chaos happening. He only sang softly in the comfort of their quiet home. He wasn’t supposed to sing now. Not now, with the infection causing people to sing. He was losing him, he was losing John, he was dying and losing himself and Xander was helpless to stop it. John was dying, he was dying all alone and Xander just had to listen.

"No! John, no!" he sobbed, holding tightly onto the phone, his eyes wide, seeking Schaeffer’s gaze for support. She put her hands on his shoulders and held them tightly. What could Xander do? What could he do? It was too much, it was all too much. What could he do?

"I love you, I love-"

John suddenly cut off, and it sounded as though his phone was placed in its pocket on his vest. Xander listened as rustling occured, resting his head on Schaeffer’s chest as he sobbed. His husband wasn’t talking to him anymore, wasn’t responding to him, to anyone or anything. He was moving, Xander could hear him moving, but he wasn’t there, John wasn’t there. John was gone, John was gone, he was gone and he was moving.

A shot rang out, and Xander gasped in his sobs. He was being held tightly by Schaeffer at that point, she was stroking his hair and whispering to him but he wasn’t hearing a word of it. All he could hear was John’s singing, those rotten words that went so far against what John truly believed. The Hive was using his words, using his body to do terrible things. His John, his beautiful, intelligent, stubborn John, they were using him to reach their goals. Xander couldn’t hang up though, he couldn’t, because some part of him said his husband still needed him, even if he wasn’t-wasn’t-

The phone was pulled from his hands and he couldn’t put up a fight, instead he clung to Schaeffer like his life depended on it. He needed something stable, something real as his world crumbled around him. Nothing was ever going to be okay again, how could it be? John was infected, he was gone. For all they knew there was no cure, there was no solution, ‘no answers to be found’ as John sang. How was he supposed to lead without John beside him? How was he supposed to do anything?

“We’ll find a cure,” Schaeffer whispered, “we’ll save them. Believe in me, if you can’t believe in yourself right now. We need you, Xander, you’re the only one who can see us through this.”

“John’s gone,” Xander said through his sobs.

“And we might be able to get him back, but only if you remain strong and help lead us through this crisis. I’ll be here by your side every step of the way, but we need you, Xander, you can do this,” she said, knowing the sort of thoughts that had to be going through his head.

He knew she was right, that he had to remain strong, that he had to lead them. If he failed to do so his plan to try and cure the infected would be vetoed and they would all be killed. It was his word as one of the greatest minds to ever work at PEIP that gave them the chance in the first place. Without Xander, the chief of staff for the army would order all the infected to be shot twice in the head, once in the heart, and thrown in the incinerator. If he continued his appeal to the science side of the situation, they had a chance. John might still have a chance.

“Okay,” Xander finally said, pulling away to wipe at his eyes. “Put out the order to round up the infected and have them placed in the containment cells in the science building, not in the brig. Outfit them with masks and sound cancelling headphones, you know the standard procedure for these situations.”

Because of the wretched order to eradicate the infection, they hadn’t been properly outfitted, it was deemed a regular army mission, which was why he wasn’t involved. If they had, if John had a mask that cleaned the particles from the air, if Xander had been there to watch his back… he might not be dead. There was no time to dwell on that though, he had infected to oversee the containment of. 

“Sir! There’s been an explosion in the theater,” a soldier called.

“What?” Xander asked, blowing his nose with the tissue provided by Schaeffer. He couldn’t grieve now, he could grieve when he got home, but he couldn’t grieve when the infection was still out there.

“It seems like the meteor was… destroyed,” the soldier said.

“How?” Schaeffer asked, quickly going over to the screen to see for herself. “You’re right, it does look as though he was destroyed. That doesn’t mean the spores or the infection is gone though.”

Xander took one last moment to compose himself before going over as well. “There are likely a lot of infected in that area. It will take time to work our way into downtown since that is the most populated area. We’ll need to section off the town in order to properly clear everywhere. Schaeffer, can I trust you to head that for me?”

Schaeffer nodded and said, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. While you do that, I’ll-”

“Sorry to interrupt!” an out of breath voice called from the doorway. “Survivors are coming! Please give them the go ahead to come in, they need medical attention and we’ll test them when they come in.”

Xander looked to Rebecca Barnes and nodded, turning to Schaeffer who put the call in. Becky smiled quickly at him and ran off once more, he assumed to go catch the people as they came in and assist in the medical help they needed. He turned back to Schaeffer after watching the nurse go, alerting her that she needed to go do what he'd said.

They had work to do, and in John's name and in his memory, they would do it. Xander could grieve later. For now he needed to organize the cause and make sure survivors were taken care of as well as making sure the infection didn't get off the island. He was going to make John proud, whether or not his husband got to see his achievement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have a prompt for me? Take part in the chapter title challenge or suggest it here!


	2. This is What You Made Me Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt Mega finds himself facing unknown territory, and in order to protect his country, with the help of his friends, he founds an organization that would come to save the world many times over. In the end, it was all for the love of his life, but will they be able to save him from the aliens who control him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! This is VERY long, this is 17 pages and 7,774 words long. This is an entire story on its own, but I told it the best I could in as short of a time as I could. It covers the founding of PEIP and what comes soon after, in Curt's personal life. I need to publish it now because I keep adding more this is the only way I'll stop.
> 
> The prompt for this was given by Ray13, thank you Ray! They asked for me to answer what 'experience' Curt had that caused him to found PEIP, and here it is! I hope you like it!
> 
> Warnings: Oh boy, yikes. The beginning has Death, it also has tentacle like substances entering people's ears and controlling them, then those being removed. It has the substance being taken off with a scalpel, taking off the skin it's connected to. If you cannot read that stuff just skip that scene, it is the fourth scene. There's a lot of pain and screaming. If you don't want any of the potentially gross bad stuff, skip to after the fourth scene, it gets better from there. Also! Old gay slang and words and such not used now but were used back then.

All things considered, while this was not a normal mission, it wasn't particularly abnormal. Sure, things went terribly wrong and he went rogue, but Curt's weird threshold hadn't been reached. He'd seen strange things in the field, the stuff of nightmares, but this was just an unusual job he needed to do to save the world. Until the Deadliest Man's flesh started to ripple and his skin turned scarlet red as it moved and morphed into a face far more familiar.

"Owen?" he asked, barely breathing.

Owen was covered in red veins of the stuff that had been changing his form, like vines wrapping around his body. They thinned as they reached his face, seeming to be in his ears and under his eyelids making them look swollen. He didn't look bloody, it was too bright to be blood, and while it certainly wasn't a part of him, it was clearly attached.

"What the hell was that?!" Von Nazi exclaimed, backing away from the man who was clearly unwell.

Owen didn't respond, simply rolled his eyes and put a hand on the nazi's face. The red stuff seemed to move forward from his hand, onto Von Nazi's face. He screamed as the vines forced their way into his head however they could, and Owen released him. Von Nazi shook for a moment as the wet looking red veins spread across him before he seemed to lose his fight and drop dead.

"As I suspected. There wasn't enough of a brain in there to make him useful to us outside of this," Owen said, holding up the deed.

"What are you?" Tatiana asked, aiming her gun steadily at the 'man' in front of them.

"I am Owen Carvour. Or, if you want a better answer, I was Owen Carvour, until Curt left him to die. We found his broken, burned, dying body as we scanned the planet for a host that could assist us in making this place into the technologically advanced society we need it to be, and, well, he was easy. Owen had a mind like we desire, one that is gifted with technology and problem solving, an unappreciated genius. He was also dying, which meant we could get into his head far easier and deeper than a normal person. It made him our perfect puppet," 'Owen' explained. 

"You're… what? Some kind of goddamn alien?" Curt asked, keeping his gun up as well.

"God has nothing to do with it, but yes, I suppose you could call us that. We aren't actually here though, you must understand, we won't actually reach your planet for decades, no no no. This," 'Owen' said, touching the strange substance on his face, "is simply an early, preemptive letter, like sending anthrax in the mail before simply bombing the place. This body is Owen's, and we've kept him fairly intact. He has been eternally useful to us simply due to his own mind's capability, though he has never had any control over the matter."

"Let him go!" Curt shouted, desperation clinging to his voice. He'd always worn his heart on his sleeve.

'Owen' scoffed. "No, I don't think I will. Besides, after everything we've done to him and everything he's been through, who knows what state he'll be in if he was free. Certainly not one who would have the mental capacity to love you back, not after you killed him," he said, seeming to enjoy the pain in Curt's voice.

"Who are you?" Tatiana asked evenly.

"These… bumbling human tongues can't replicate the sounds of our language, but the closest you can probably get, while keeping the same idea, would be Chimera. We're a civilization many star systems away. We come to an innocent, naive planet like your own and infect it with our virus. It's like a- well, you lot don't have computer viruses yet, so you wouldn't understand. It connects the mind of the victim to our system, to be used to generate energy in order to solve the Codex. We're coming to Earth, but you aren't ready yet. That is what I'm here to fix," the creature said.

"This virus, it's what you did to Owen? And Von Nazi?" Curt asked.

"Von Nazi yes, Owen no. Von Nazi didn't have enough mental power to last more than a few seconds, completely useless. Owen meanwhile is a tool we're using, we're controlling his body so that we can prepare the planet for its technological future! They'll find themselves unable to live without it, and then? Then, we strike, turning their addiction into a computing machine in order to solve the Codex," it said with a smirk.

"And what is that? The Codex? What is it?" Tatiana asked.

"Why, you've heard of treasure maps and pirate's gold, correct? The Codex is an interstellar treasure map leading to riches beyond your comprehension. Only problem is that it's impossible to solve by yourself, or within a lifetime. That's why we invented our virus. It connects minds to our system in order to solve the Codex in a fast and efficient manner. We travel from planet to planet infecting the population and then moving on. You all don't have the technology for this yet, unfortunately.

"I've been hard at work these last four years pulling strings and making deals. I have an entire island of computing systems in the Pacific creating a cloud of information gathering around this planet, pushing governments to try and keep up. That, and the silly little 'Cold War' you lot have going on will propel your planet forward into the age of the internet. All I needed to complete my hold on that power struggle is this deed to the largest mine of silicon the earth has ever seen. Soon enough people will be begging to have a piece, they'll go to war over it, and war brings progress," 'Owen' said.

"Why are you telling us all of this?" Susan asked.

"Oh, because none of you are a threat to us. The deeds are done, the places are set. There's nothing any of you can do to stop what we have started," it said with a devilish smile.

"We could kill you. You won't hurt anyone ever again," Curt said, pointing his gun at the man's head once more.

It touched the vein like red substance on his face again and continued smiling. "Nothing our special friend can't fix, though you will harm his mind even further. We'll continue using this body until it's so broken that even we can't fix it, but there's still a long way until then."

"We will find a way to stop you, and to save Owen!" Curt swore. He couldn't cause Owen more pain than he already had he just couldn't.

"There will be no saving him. He was patient zero. Let's see our next patient, oh what will I be at now? One thousand hundred and thirty four, I believe, obviously not counting my 'normal human kills'," 'Owen' said, suddenly lunging at Susan and putting his hand on his face long enough to spread the virus before ducking out of the room before anyone could react.

Susan swore and tried to claw the oily, slime like tendrils off of his face, though it only seemed to spread the infection to his hands. The other two backed off, guns drawn, fully aware that their friend wasn't going to be their friend much longer. There was nothing they could do, and if Owen could transfer the virus through touch, why wouldn't Susan be able to as well? What was stopping him from turning into a full on living zombie?

Sure enough, Susan lunged at them, hands out and reaching for bare skin. Curt managed to hold up his covered arm to block the hands before kicking the man away. Tatiana wasted no time shooting him in the head, no idea if it would work or not. The virus on his face continued to move before slowing down and stopping, leaving them in a silent room, aside from Curt's breathing.

"What the fuck?" he simply asked, unsure what else to say.

"Head shot worked on him, but it might not work on Owen. You need to go after him, take him down," Tatiana said. "I'll blow up the compound in the Pacific."

"I can't kill him, Tatiana, I've already done enough!" Curt cried.

She slammed her hand on his shoulder and shook him. "You're a damn spy, you have the world to save."

"No, I have a better idea. I'm gonna shoot him and bring him back to our base of operations so we can extract more information and see if we can cure him," Curt replied.

"You're bringing the deadliest man on earth who is also infected with an alien virus into your mother's home?!" Tatiana exclaimed.

"No! Well yes, but just for a short time, until we can convince Cynthia to help us out," Curt said. "I have a plan."

"A shit plan!" she replied.

"That may be, but do we have a better one?!" he cried back.

She was silent before sighing and nodding. "Stay safe, Curt. I won't be there to save your ass this time."

"You too, Tatiana, though I don't know if you've ever needed me," he replied.

"I haven't, but thank you," Tatiana said with a smile as she left.

There would be time for processing the situation and the death of Susan later. For now, Curt had to focus on tracking down his formerly dead boyfriend currently being used as a puppet for an alien civilization's treasure hunt. Not the sentence he thought he'd think to himself when he woke up that morning, but there he was, thinking it anyway. He had a chance to save Owen, to things right and Curt would stop at nothing to do so. He didn't care what state Owen was in when they saved him, it would simply be enough that he was alive.

\---

"You really did it, didn't you?" Tatiana asked, staring down at the unconscious form of Owen currently tied to a pipe in the Mega family basement. Curt had been forced to shoot him in the head to make him stop fighting, but they saw the red tendrils repairing the damage already. It was disgusting.

"I did, yep," Curt said, looking at him as well.

"What now?" she asked.

"No idea. I need to go into the office and try to talk to Cynthia," Curt said. "I'm technically unemployed but considering…"

"You'll need proof, or no one will believe you," she said.

"I have no idea how to do that. I can't bring him in there, he'll break out and go on a killing spree," Curt sighed.

"We call Barb, she may have a plan, or a way to take the shit off of him so you can show it to her and anyone above her," Tatiana suggested.

He nodded, thankful he'd convinced his mother to stay with friends for a few days while they handled the situation. If she knew he'd brought two girls home he'd never hear the end of it. Pay no attention to his boyfriend's presence, of course! No, it was the girls she would fuss over. He wasn't getting any straighter. "I'll call her now, watch him while I'm gone."

Tatiana nodded as he left and made the call. Barb of course knew where he lived, she'd stopped by before and helped his mother out, so she had no problem getting there. He tried his best to explain what she was going to see when she arrived, so she could bring the tools she'd need, but there was only so much he could say. No amount of 'it's really gross and scary' could prepare her.

Which was why he was ready to cover her mouth when she instinctively tried to scream.

"Quiet! We don't want to wake him yet, we have no way of containing him better than he is right now," he said upon releasing her.

Barb took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and nodded. "You're right, I will try my best not to scream," she said, putting on the protective gear she'd brought and setting up near Owen. "If I can get a section of the stuff off of him, I can take it to the lab for testing. If it proves to be extraterrestrial in origin you will have a case on your hands."

If there was one thing Curt had learned from this event, it was that there was a need in America for something that protected its people from these sorts of threats, these aliens who wished to harm them. According to Tatiana, the Russians already had a division in their military to study these phenomena and potentially use them against the Americans. America had to keep up, and protect their people at the same time, from threats of all kinds. 

Curt didn't think he was the man to lead it, but someone had to start the ball rolling, for the good of America and the good of the planet. The Russians wouldn't save them from Chimera, they didn't even know Chimera existed, and in the midst of the Cold War he wasn't about to go telling them such secrets. He'd heard from Tatiana what sort of shit they were pulling in their program and he refused to be any part of it, or let them touch Owen.

Whatever Barb did caused the unconscious man to wince, but he luckily didn't wake up. She was off soon after, leaving the two with their planning. Curt wasn't an idiot. He knew he couldn't do what he wanted to do by himself. He was going to need support, in getting the project approved and in founding the thing he envisioned.

He saw an organization, connected to the military and the government but with enough free reign to do what was necessary and what was right, without too much overhang or interaction. He saw a place that utilized his military training and knowledge of espionage in order to protect America and the earth. He saw a place where Barb's technology could be utilized to better understand the universe, and Tatiana wouldn't face suspicion for her past but be allowed to do the work she loved. He saw a place where Owen could organize the science and the intelligence gathered and lead by his side, handling that part of the organization while he handled the other half. He saw a place he and Owen could live together, have a life together in a place they were safe to be themselves, and people like them were safe too.

It was just going to have to take some time to get there. Until then, Owen was tied to a pipe in the basement.

\---

Deciding the location of the base was difficult. America was huge! Part of him wanted to choose somewhere like Florida or Hawaii, somewhere warm and tropical, but that didn't best suit their needs. Going off of old charts and new data, they concluded that the best place to put it would actually be a tiny town on an island in Michigan.

The winters were said to be dreadful, but it was far enough away from the capital and other major things that if something bad were to happen on base, it wouldn't reach the president. It was also where two ley lines, some sort of magic doohickey, crossed which made strange things happen often on the island. Given its knack for picking up trouble, it was the perfect place to study the little understood, and to start protecting Americans from its harm.

They started out with protective measures, all sorts of stuff which they didn't know would work, on top of the standard military grade base protection. The first building built was the research building, officially named the Lavernor Science and Technology Building, and was finished within the first year, though it wasn't completed by the time work began in it. Before anything else was done, the containment cells were completed, made to contain something they didn't know the limits of. They didn't even have heat at the time! But they did have fully functional cells.

As soon as they were completed, Owen was placed in Cell 1, right next to the stairs in the corner. Like all the cells, it had a booth protecting the window from sight, and an intercom system to speak with whatever was inside. Over the last six months, Owen had been held in the less secure cell in the secret service headquarters, but they all felt safer knowing he was now locked in the best containment 1961 had to offer. Now, work in saving him could begin.

"How are you liking your new cell?" Curt asked through the intercom.

"It's far more… isolating, isn't it?" The thing said.

"It should be, you're cut off from all radio waves, and all other things of that type. Whatever has been keeping you strong all these years is gone now. Once we kill that virus enough we'll be able to save Owen or kill him for good, how's that sound?" Curt asked.

"You wouldn't kill me, Curt," it said sitting down on the cot in the room. "Your precious Owen is still in here."

"I have no reason to believe that is the case. Nothing you have done has made us think you're telling the truth about that," Curt replied. The one way glass was hopefully working. He didn't want to be seen in case he did something drastic.

It raised an eyebrow at the glass before its eyes rolled back in its head, Owen's body slumping as if its strings were cut. Curt felt his panic rise, but Tatiana's hand on his shoulder brought him back down. Owen's face twitched as if he was trying to comprehend consciousness, and was in serious pain while doing so. He was letting out pained sounds as he tried to hold himself up in a sitting position on shaking arms.

"Curt?" Owen asked, his voice as frail as a scared, injured animal.

"Owen?" he asked back. "Is it really you?"

"Where am I? I-I don't- I don't- where- I don't-" Owen said, clearly trying to say something but unable to put his thoughts together enough to do it.

Curt took a deep breath. This was killing him, seeing Owen so weak and scared and pained. There was nothing to be done at the moment though, and no saying this was actually Owen at all. "If you're really Owen, say something only he would know."

"It's in my mind, C-Curt, it's in my brain I feel it _moving_ in my brain it hurts so much there's nothing- there's- there's nothing left they haven't touched they know everything in my mind. I-I died. It- I died more than once? I can feel it, I can feel where it- where the- the pain… Curt, please, make it stop. Make it stop. Free me from this hell, please," Owen begged.

Tatiana stepped up when Curt found himself unable to speak. "Then help us. Give us something so we can fight these things when they come for us. Any point of entry goes two ways, if they can see into your mind you can see into them."

'Owen' whimpered and clawed at his head. "I can't! It doesn't work like that there's nothing-" he was silent as he twitched from the sensation of the stuff moving on his skin and in his skull. "Paper. Pen and paper, I can- I can give you their alphabet or-or their numbers I can't- I can't tell but I can write them down. Hurry!"

Curt grabbed his unused notebook and pen and slid them through the slot at the bottom of the door for Owen to reach. Owen noticed the action and groaned with pain and desperation as he fell on his side. This could very well be a trap, but he was clearly suffering so much… Curt knew he could be a fool, and didn't want to be a fool now, but Owen was suffering.

"I can't- I can't move that much!" Owen sobbed from the pain. "Curt, please! Help me, I can't- I can't help, I want to help please!"

"Curt, don't you dare open that door," Tatiana growled as she turned off the intercom.

Curt stared at her for a moment before opening the cell door and kicking the notebook towards the bed. Instantly, Owen growled and pounced like a wild animal. The only thing that stopped him from tearing Curt apart was his quick reaction in slamming the door shut, leaving Owen once again trapped inside. Tatiana ran over and hit him upside the head for that.

"What were you thinking?!" she exclaimed.

"I needed to see if it was true or not. It wasn't," Curt replied simply.

"Or they took him back over instantly, you don't know! We don't know!" she hissed.

"If we have to kill him I'd like to think he was never there at all," he said firmly, walking away.

\---

Owen was strapped, naked, to a table in a cell they'd set up for the task at hand. They still hadn't finished everything that would be necessary to move him to the medical rooms that would be above them, so the cell would have to do. The red vine-like substance attached to his skin barely moved now, having lost its power source for too long, but it was clear now just how much work Barb had ahead of her. There were thicker sections of the stuff on his chest, legs, and arms, likely where he'd been damaged in the fall and explosion. All and all though the majority of the substance was around the top half of his body, on his arms and head. 

"I have to tell you again this venture is simply useless, you can't 'cure' this body of us. There won't be anything left of him when you're done!" it protested as Barb finished putting on her protective gear and got out the scalpel.

She ignored him as she went to work, carefully prying the stuff off his skin like she had before, this time continuing, working in sections. He couldn't move, giving the bindings on his head, neck, waist, wrists, and ankles, but he could wiggle and make her job harder as he glared at Curt who was watching. Every time she cut off a section, he winced, but whatever he was experiencing wasn't bad enough to make him shut the hell up.

"You, Barbara, have such a sweet, succulent mind," he said, licking his lips. "You would actually get to work on the Codex, you may even last a day! It's such a shame you're as old as you are now, you'll be in your eighties or nineties when our ship finally arrives, you won't last nearly as long. The elderly are so feeble, it's irritating. And you humans have such short life spans, it's dreadful."

She continued ignoring him, focusing entirely on what she was doing, almost finishing with his left arm. He was starting to show signs that it was bothering him, more flinching and blinking as though his body was reacting more and whatever was controlling his mind was losing signal. Like a walkie talkie, separated from the other at too far a distance! Not like a cell phone please, this is 1962.

"Some races, some live longer, far longer than humans. There was one that could last for that lasted for days, if they were of the mind to be able to solve the Codex. No one else lasts as long as them because the strongest have the most to take. Longer lives last longer, humans live so short lives, to-too weak to last more than a few hours, no matter how gifted. It isn't intelligence, it has nothing to do with intelligence, no, logic. We need logic. We need puzzle solvers. We need- we need-"

Barb had cleared most of his chest by that point, as he began to make less and less sense. The substance that had been on his back had come off in writhing chunks with the parts on his chest, given the larger sections it had been in. His eyes looked pained and terribly confused as he frantically looked around the room, like he was trying to spout out anything that came to mind but was drawing a blank.

"What do you need?" Curt asked, because Owen seemed to have lost his train of thought and was beginning to look scared at the thought.

"People we need people we need minds to solve the Codex we need to solve the Codex we will share the wealth within our civilization we are a small civilization working towards this goal, we- we need to solve the Codex. We give them a chance- we every time we give them a chance but they don't find it they don't- know it they don't-"

"What chance?" Curt asked.

"Reset button. Reset button. Resets the damage of the virus. We get what we need, no one dies, we leave, but no one gets the button in time. We-we-we-" if Curt knew what a malfunctioning auto system sounded like, he would think that was what Owen sounded like now, robotically frantic in his speech as she continued to take the virus off of him. "We- I don't- We-"

There was silence, except for the sounds of Barb's work and Owen's uncomfortable sounds of pain. He didn't look any less frantic and lost, confused, but he also seemed to have lost any semblance of an idea as to what he'd been talking about. Staying out of Barb's way as she continued to work down his body, Curt walked closer. He wore protective clothing as well, of course, but he had his hands on his hips as he got closer as though he was dressed normally.

"Do you remember our first time out together?" Curt asked, praying that some part of Owen would answer him and would have that to cling to rather than looking so lost.

The man paused before looking up at Curt with hazy, red eyes. "You took me to a baseball game, the Angels," Owen said, smiling slightly. "I hated it."

"You did. You hated it so much," Curt said with a smile.

"I liked the-the-the cards, the writing, the numbers," Owen tried to say.

"You liked the score sheets, yeah, you liked keeping track of the numbers," Curt said affectionately, though he knew his sadness was evident in his face and tone.

"Careful, Mega, don't touch his face yet," Barb said without looking up as Curt reached out to stroke Owen's hair.

Owen didn't seem to notice though, not with the haze that was coming over him. He just kept looking at Curt as he said, "We had the- we got the- we got- we got the-"

Curt winced on his behalf, whatever was happening was getting worse the more she took off, but they had to finish this, one way or another. The silence continued though, as Owen seemed to have lost his train of thought and returned to whimpering. "What did we get, Owen? At the baseball game?" he prompted.

"Candy snack corn food sweet pop corn," Owen said, evidently struggling to string that thought together.

"We got caramel corn, yeah. And you actually liked it, a real American treat," Curt said, holding Owen's hand, much to Owen's relief it seemed. "Do you remember the next place we met? You took me to that museum in East Berlin. You told me all about those crusty old guys who made that art."

"Bode Museum," Owen mumbled. "Venus and Mercury, Pigalle."

"Pig all?" Curt teased in a strong American accent.

Owen smiled. "Pigalle. French. Jean-Baptiste Pigalle," he mumbled.

"Sure, right, John Baptist Pig All," Curt said in the same voice.

He just continued smiling, not seeming to have the energy to laugh. "Donatello," Owen mumbled.

"I can say that one, Donna Tele," Curt said.

"Tele," Owen repeated, though he seemed to be getting lost again.

"Hey, Owen, Owen, look at me… Remember how we snuck over the border just to go to the French restaurant on the West side you wanted to take me to?" Curt asked, desperate to keep Owen with him as long as possible.

Owen looked back at him, but though he clearly recognized Curt, he seemed to struggle with understanding what he was saying. He didn't respond too consumed by confusion and pain as Barb worked her way up his other side. Nothing Curt was saying was getting a response, but he would look back up at him when he spoke, so clearly he could hear. Comprehension was failing him now, it seemed. The only sounds he made were the natural ones he made in response to Barb's actions.

It wasn't until she reached his other arm that anything changed. Whatever fight the thing still had came out, and Owen began writhe on the table like a rabid animal attempting to break free, growling and biting at both people above him without much use. He continued as she cleaned his arm of the stuff, but lost his energy to fight before too long. There wasn't enough of the stuff left to keep powering him.

He'd grown thin and frail over the months he was locked away, with the virus' power source taken away and no longer keeping him well. It was enough to keep him going, but Owen likely hadn't eaten since he'd been infected, meaning there was nothing in his body to make it work without the help of the virus. The patches where it had been on his skin seemed stained red, scarred perhaps even after taking layers of skin off with it. Owen looked like death, and now he was going still and quiet, only whimpering from the pain.

His face was another beast entirely, in comparison to the rest of his body, which was why Barb waited to do it last. The veins were thin, and entered his head through every available opening. Nothing was off the table, unfortunately, and that meant it was going to be painful. Curt ran his fingers over Owen's hand as Barb got to work, slowly and carefully getting rid of the shit. Owen took it like a champ, only whimpered a bit more except when something was being pulled out of him, which caused him more distress.

Finally all that was left were the thicker vines that entered his ears. They were the beasts to blame for the fucking with Owen's mind. They were the ones that could kill him if she took them out incorrectly. "Curt, if anything-"

"Do it, Barb," Curt said in a warning tone.

"He's going to scream," she warned back. "I need you to be ready for that."

Curt took a shaky breath and nodded, squeezing Owen's hand tighter as if that could protect him. She was right, as she began to work, Owen's eyes rolled back in his head and he screamed, almost seeming to be gagging from the sensation and the pain. He whispered softly to him, stroking his hand as Owen clung to him for dear life. The second one was no easier. He seemed exhausted now, entirely devoid of anything to keep him alive and strong to withstand the feeling. Curt couldn't stop the tears that were falling from his eyes as he kissed the bare skin of Owen's hand.

"It's done," Barb finally said, sounding just as exhausted as Curt felt. It had been hours as she'd worked meticulously, she deserved a break. Still, after taking a moment to compose herself and wipe away her tears, she went back to work, cleaning Owen with what they believed would kill anything that remained, then hooking him up to an iv.

"Now what?" Curt asked.

"Now we wait," she said with a shrug, pulling a chair over for him to sit down next to Owen.

"Thanks, can you grab the blankets? He's freezing," Curt said. "I know you just did all that, but…" He looked at Owen's hand, still weakly holding his, and couldn't stand the idea of letting go.

"You love him," Barb said simply as she grabbed the prepared blankets. "Like, really really, don't you? You're…"

"Yeah, I am. We are. We've been partners for years, or were, before all this…" Curt replied.

He wasn't sure how he felt about any of the words people like him were called, and therefore wasn't sure what to call himself. Owen would slip into the Polari talk he'd learned in the theaters in London growing up as a man who liked men, calling them stuff like fruit and omi-palone, but Curt wasn't sure about those. Gay seemed alright, but he's seen it used against people like him way more than he'd seen it used positively. There just wasn't a lot of positivity. Curt wasn't ashamed, but he was scared, and he was terrified of what Barb would do now that she knew.

"Curt… I'm so sorry. If I'd known I wouldn't have flirted with you," Barb said quickly as she placed the blanket over Owen. "Does Tatiana know?"

"Yeah, she knows. Barb are we… good?" he asked, uncertain due to her response.

"Of course we're good! I just did everything I could to save your partner's life, I'm not gonna change my mind about how important and good either of you are just because you're in love. Besides, Tatiana is just as pretty as you are and even if you're homosexual you can tell that," Barb replied, hugging him.

"Are you saying you're…?"

"I'm what we call bisexual," she said with a grin. "We're both queer! We can talk about that stuff now that we don't have to hide it anymore! Oh! Do you think Tatiana is too?"

"No idea," Curt said, running his hand through Owen's hair. "I don't know if she's attracted to anyone at all honestly. She's more interested in getting this place off the ground than men."

"Speaking of, I'll go tell her we're finished," Barb said. "I'll have them bring you food later, okay?"

"Thank you, and Barb? Take the rest of the day off, you need it after that."

\---

The days of waiting were killing him, but there was nothing Curt could do. As the hours passed, his worry only increased, fearing Owen wouldn't wake up, fearing he'd be comatose until he died. There was nothing that could wake him, nothing Curt could actively do to save the love of his life. Three days, three days he'd sat by Owen's side with nothing more than the occasional twitch on his face.

"I need you to sign this, Curt," Tatiana said, holding out a clipboard. She had taken over many of his duties while he sat vigil by Owen's side.

"What is it?" Curt asked, taking it from her and looking over the paper.

"It's to grant permission for base housing to start being planned," she explained, handing him a pen.

"Damn bureaucracy. I never thought I'd be part of the system," Curt said with an eye roll as he sighed it. "I'll have to approve of whatever design they come up with?"

"You know it," Tatiana said, taking it back from him.

"Curt?" a quiet mumble called, startling them both. Owen was awake, looking around with hazy eyes before landing on Curt again, incredibly confused.

"Owen!" Curt said, his attention drawn back to his partner who was still attached to the table. They hadn't been sure he'd be himself when he woke up, and they hadn't wanted to risk it.

Owen didn't respond, though Curt didn't blame him. He was clearly not entirely there, which worried him, but he hoped it would pass as Owen recovered. Chimera's warning that Owen wouldn't return in any form he would recognize terrified him, but he recognized Curt, and that was a start. Owen was looking around the room again, unable to understand what was happening.

"Owen, hey, it's okay, you're okay," Curt soothed, but Owen didn't react in the slightest to his voice, not like a confused person would. Curt looked to Tatiana with concern.

"HEY!" she shouted, but again Owen didn't react. Seeing that, she patted Curt's shoulder and went into action, heading out of the room. "I'll get Barb."

Curt stroked Owen's hair, whispering soothing things to him even though Owen couldn't seem to hear him. His actions seemed to calm the man, Owen's eyes no longer looking so frantic. Barb had worried he might lose his hearing due to the vines that had been in his ears and it seemed she'd been right. That was going to make the situation more difficult, but Curt still believed everything would be fine. It would just take some time. Besides, Owen knew how to read lips in six languages, it would take adaptation, but they would be fine.

\---

Owen wasn't fine. That was expected, but it was concerning still. Between times of clarity, he would stare blankly into the distance, often unresponsive. It was hard to tell if he could understand what Curt was doing around him, but he went along as he was guided. Curt wasn't comforted by his easy compliance, Owen was usually impossible. Now he was... quiet, and reliant on Curt for everything he needed. His skin had healed into red scars over his body where the substance had been, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. It was unlikely the scars would ever fade, but there were worse things than deep scar tissue.

Now, Curt was sitting in bed next to his partner who was simply staring straight up at the ceiling as Curt looked over some paperwork. Owen was starting to regain some weight, luckily, but he had a long way to go if he was going to recover. If. Curt hated saying if, especially about Owen, but it had been a month and the only word he'd managed to say was Curt's name. Curt needed to be realistic.

"That's wrong," Owen mumbled, startling Curt who looked over to see that Owen was reading over his shoulder.

Curt gently tapped Owen's face and turned his own to face him directly so Owen could read his lips, if he was capable. "What is?" he asked clearly.

Owen pointed at a point of data on the report and said, "It's wrong. The math is wrong. It won't end well."

He turned back to the report and tried to do the mental math to understand what Owen was talking about. Curt couldn't say he was the best at that sort of thing, but he could tell Owen was correct, remarkably. He circled it with his pen to bring up in the morning. "You're right," Curt said, turning back to clearly face Owen, "thank you."

Owen just nodded and went back to reading the report. He didn't speak again for the rest of the night, but the event did bring Curt hope. If he could do that math, if he could catch such a small miscalculation, he could get better, Curt was sure of it.

\---

"What the hell have you lot been doing these last three years?!" Owen cried as he flipped through the papers on his desk. His desk! His very own desk in the research building! After everything, he had his own desk, his own office in an organization he and Curt were shaping.

Due to the fact that he was legally dead, it wasn't technically treason for Owen to work at the Paranormal Extraterrestrial Interdimensional Protection division for the US government. Owen quite liked the name, it was very Curt, specifically naming his organization something with a fun abbreviation that allowed for jokes. PEIP. Fun. The science and intelligence division was a mess of half plans and miscellaneous information that had been collected, and it was in desperate need of organization and careful planning.

"Working our asses off while you laid around," Curt teased, his hands in his jacket pockets. He spoke as he’d grown accustomed to speaking, facing Own straight on and articulating properly. Barb had made him special hearing aids, but they could only do so much, so Owen relied mostly on lip reading still.

"None of you seem to know what you're doing, I certainly have my work ahead of me," he muttered with a smile, shuffling through his papers. If there was one thing he loved, other than Curt, it was a challenge.

"And no one can do it better than you, Old Man," Curt said, smiling back at him proudly.

"I'm not that old, you bold bastard," Owen teased.

"People are calling their boyfriends old man!" he defended. "You're my partner, I'm justified."

"And I called you a homosexual bastard, both are true," Owen retorted.

"My parents were married!" Curt said, walking over to Owen and standing in front of his desk.

"Maybe so, but you're still a bastard," Owen said, leaning over and kissing Curt on the lips.

Tatiana knocked before walking in the room. "Stop flirting, we have work to do. A mission. Barb has been picking up a lot of strange activity outside of our reality, something is coming to Hatchetfield and we need to prepare."

\---

"Curt, that is a child," Owen said, pointing at the young boy Curt had just brought into his office. The kid couldn't be older than four, with brown eyes and messy, dark hair.

Curt just put a hand on the child's head and said, "Yes he is. Meet Wilbur Cross, our new ward."

Owen blinked, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" he asked, unsure if he’d misheard him as he’d been looking at the child rather than his partner.

"Wiley's parents… got wrapped up in the mission. They didn't make it," Curt explained.

Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have so many things to say right now but I don't know where to begin. I'm speechless, genuinely."

"And you will still manage to tell me off for the next six minutes. Count 'em, Wilbur," Curt teased, pointing at the clock on the wall.

"You find a child, now orphaned, in Mississippi, and decided to, without my permission, adopt him. You took a random child, who may have living relatives, and take him in without consulting me on the matter. You know how our lives are! You know how these things go! We don't have time for a child! We- and people will _talk_! We're gay, Curtis! People find out he has two bachelors raising him and people will talk!" Wilbur ranted.

"Ye of little faith! I checked to see if he had any relatives and he didn't," Curt defended.

"Oh! Wonderful! And you functionally kidnapped him from the proper authorities on an impulse we didn't discuss! If you had talked about this before you did it, if you had worked through the idea of adopting a child, that would be one thing. You literally just showed up with a five year old out of nowhere," Owen ranted.

"Four, and I got legal permission to take custody of him, he isn't kidnapped," Curt said, his hand still on the child's head.

" _Why_ though is the question? Why?! What is lacking in our lives to the degree that you decided to adopt a random child?" Owen cried.

"He isn't a random child, Owen, he is one of those special people with a connection to the Black and White," Curt said.

Owen froze at that, processing the new information. It had been two years since he'd gotten his mind back, but some things still took him longer than it used to, such as processing unexpected information. Curt waited patiently, entirely aware of that, arms crossed behind his back. Little Wiley copied his movement.

They had learned of the Black and White recently, through their research into alternate dimensions and spying on the Russians who were ahead of them in this race. They’d been collecting young people with a connection to the place from around the world with little parental permission for a few years now, hoping to use their psychic abilities to win the cold war. America was far behind on that front, and Curt and Owen had agreed they would never use a child as a weapon, that anyone who fought for them would have to do so willingly, that was the way of the America they wanted to see. They hadn’t found anyone yet themselves, though they hadn’t been giving the search their full attention, considering everything that had been going on.

"You… He's a person with a connection? Seriously?" Owen asked after a moment.

"He is. The advice he gave was true and he knew more about the threat than we did. He's the first one we've found, but he's the real deal," Curt said. "If I had been able to save his parents, I would have, I'd have brought them all here, but I couldn't. It's safer for him to live here, with us, than it is for him to live anywhere else. You know what they're doing to kids in Russia, Owen, we can't let them get their hands on him."

Owen chewed on his lip as he thought about the situation before nodding. If they left the child to the system, there was no saying that he wouldn’t be taken by Russia. On top of that, it made the most sense for them to raise him rather than pawning him off on one of their employees. Besides, they had been together for years now, nearly a decade. Were they not allowed to raise a child of their own? Sure, the kid wasn’t theirs by blood, but he had dark hair and eyes like Owen did. They could easily pass him off as his son to the school, say after his wife died he’d moved in with his best friend for assistance in raising the boy because he was far too heartbroken to marry again. "Yes, alright. You're right. We'll go from here, I suppose. I’m sure your mother will be pleased to finally have that grandchild she’s always wanted."

The small child said something Owen didn’t quite catch, but made Curt laugh, and he focused on him once more. "What was that?" Owen asked.

"You fought for seven minutes. Not six," Wiley explained.

Owen clicked his tongue and sat down at his desk. "Well, Curt has always had a habit of underestimating how much time something takes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in PEIP has been updated and remodeled constantly since it was originally built, but the exterior of the main buildings, such as the headquarters building, the research building, and the hospital are all original to the sixties. The research building is named after Barb, the headquarters building is named the Lauren Mega Building after Curt's mom. The hospital is named the Susen Fallick Emergency Hospital. Now, the military base itself is named the Slohzno Hatchetfield Base, but they couldn't name anything after her until after the cold war.
> 
> Mrs. Mega moved onto base when it was completed in 1963 to live near her son and is buried in Clivesdale because they didn't want to risk anything. The last scene takes place in 1964 when Wilbur was 4. Wilbur was 34 when he took John in. John considers Curt and Owen to be his grandfathers whom he does not talk about because John just generally doesn't talk about personal stuff. Curt, Owen, Tatiana, and Barb all still live in the area, but not on the Hatchetfield island because they know better. Curt was the original John, Owen was the original Xander, Tatiana was the original Schaeffer, and Barb was the original Tom, or rather the role he is growing into.
> 
> They all retired around the same time, about 20 years ago, but still check in on things when they can. Owen's mind has gone due to age and the treatment it had for years, but he and Curt still live happily together to this day. Sometimes he has moments of clarity, and John intends to bring Lex and Ethan to meet them when he has a good day so that she can meet both of them. Barb is the one most active still, visiting the labs to see how they've improved and scolding people for fuck ups, but she loves Xander dearly and insists he's the only one good enough to take over Owen's role. She has also met Tom, and told Xander he is to take over the lead on the technological side she controlled in her day. Schaeffer takes Tatiana out to eat every so often to shit talk her bosses. She loves them, but Tatiana is the only one who understands her pain.
> 
> The Chimera are still out there! It's been decades, and the world they sought to build on Earth has come, the land of technology. Soon they will arrive. Will they be prepared?


	3. Good and Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PEIP forces John and Xander on a honeymoon, pretending it's a mission. Xander dislikes psychic based enemies more than any other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A Xander and John chapter! The first scene takes place in 2016 and the second takes place later that same year. I wanted to include both in this prompt response because neither is exactly a normal mission but they are missions nevertheless. I also used some of a previous prompt I filled on my tumblr for the second one and expanded on it.
> 
> HyperactiveFangirl asked for a flashback to John and Xander's missions! I wanted to show a great one and a bad one, or rather I started writing the first one then wanted some angst and threw in the second one for Fun. I hope you like it, thank you for reading my story!
> 
> Warnings! The first scene contains a moment of homophobia at Disney. The second includes Xander having a bad time.

It was a beautiful day for the world to end, not that they were going to let it end, but it was beautiful nevertheless. Their mission brought the team to Florida in the middle of winter, meaning it was around 65 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny, with palm trees swaying in the city around them. Xander had never expected their work to take them to Disney, but there they were, the big golf ball looming nearby.

It wasn’t a surprise that the aliens had landed in the area of course. These fuckers consumed happiness, so it wasn’t a big shock they’d chosen to go for ‘the happiest place on Earth’. Xander had never been to the place before, and he doubted John had either, nor had Schaeffer or Code. Leaving Hatchetfield was usually reserved for a mission, and they were dedicated, rarely taking vacations. When they did, they went to Quebec or Ontario, enjoying the cuisine and culture. For some goddamn reason, John loved poutine, despite how picky he was with food. Xander hated it, didn’t even like the smell, but beaver tails were delicious and therefore worth it. The little crepe place on Old Quebec was also worth it, and a place they both enjoyed.

So, none of them had been to Disney. Besides! Canada was closer! And cheaper! They’d managed to get a week’s pass for the three of them and a stay at one of the hotels through PEIP though, you know, to make sure they got rid of the aliens. They weren’t going on rides to ENJOY them, no no, it was so they could find any of the aliens that were hiding on the rides to consume the happiness of the people riding them. It was all strictly business, of course it was. Getting a picture of John with every princess was just a bonus.

“We’ll split up. You two check inside the orb, we’ll start looking through the countries,” Schaeffer said with a firm nod.

“You two just want to get away from us because we’ve been using this opportunity as a vacation and you didn’t know how affectionate we get when not on duty,” Xander teased.

“On the contrary, Xander, I know exactly how affectionate you two get, I simply do not need to be around you while you are. Code and I are perfectly happy to give you privacy while not having to see you sitting on each other and kissing all over the place,” Schaeffer replied.

“We have done nothing of the sort,” John stated, “not anything unrelated to our work. Every kiss has been strictly to maintain our cover, as has any affection we have shown.”

“Yeah, sure, and when we’re back at the hotel?” Code teased.

“Lieutenant,” John replied simply, a good natured warning.

The younger man just laughed and linked arms with Schaeffer. “Come along, Mandy, we’ve got aliens to hunt. Do we want to go towards Canada first or China?”

“We will meet you two for lunch at the Coral Reef place, then we’ll switch sides of the park, you know, just in case we missed anything,” Xander said, taking John’s hand into his own.

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Xander, and we can discuss dinner afterwards,” Schaeffer agreed.

“Have fun, love birds!” Code replied, Naruto running away towards his destination and dragging Schaeffer with him.

Xander couldn’t help but snicker as he watched them go, swinging his and John’s arms between them as they began to explore Epcot. “What do you think, John? Is this the land of tomorrow?”

“Tomorrowland was in the Magic Kingdom, Xander, this is Epcot,” John replied.

He snickered and squeezed John’s hands three times. “Do we want to go into the golf ball first? There’s a ride in there,” he asked.

“We can, yes. We will also need to ride the car invention ride and the space exploration one,” John said, leading them towards the ride in question.

“One day one of us will end up in space,” Xander said, not particularly impressed by that fact. It was just another work thing. He’d love to go to space! Space was fascinating! It was just a fact that they could very easily end up in space.

“It is very possible. With any luck we will be together during it so that we can kiss and make history,” John replied. “Not that anyone will ever know, considering it will be strictly confidential.”

“We can get ourselves a plaque in the headquarters, ‘John and Xander McNamara, first gay kiss in space’,” he said as they found themselves in line.

“Neither of us took each other’s last name when we got married,” John reminded his husband.

“That is mostly because our marriage was through PEIP’s technicalities, so we couldn’t legally change our names,” Xander replied.

It was legal and everything, they were absolutely husbands, they’d just done it through the way created by the founders of PEIP, before gay marriage was legalized through the country. Of course, when it had been legalized the year prior, their comrades insisted they have a proper wedding, and it had been a whole affair neither had expected, and then they sent them on a mission with two dear friends to Disneyland.

Neither of them said anything about the obvious. They had yet to find a single alien, and were beginning to doubt their existence. They also knew Schaeffer and Code were likely in on it, insisting they’d been finding aliens while simultaneously leaving them alone whenever possible so they could spend time alone. If John and Xander believed the coast to be clear, they’d insist on returning home to go back to work, but… if the other two said they were finding aliens… well that just meant they had to continue searching, didn’t it? Their employees and friends hadn’t planned a honeymoon for them and sent them on it without telling them that was the case. Certainly not.

Still, John and Xander’s cover story _was_ that they were on their honeymoon, so perhaps Schaeffer and Code’s secret plan wasn’t as well hidden as they’d hoped. Xander wondered how they did so well on missions if they couldn’t hide their true plans here. He had to give them the benefit of the doubt though, considering it was Xander Lee and John McNamara they were trying to hide things from. It was very hard to hide things from them, they were quite good at their jobs.

“People like that thinking they can do things in public like that are what is wrong with this country,” the white woman behind them said to her husband.

John went stock still, and Xander braced for his response, because he knew his husband well enough to know that comments like that about them wouldn’t fly. “I love our dear country, Honey, don’t you? The land of the free created with the ideals of liberty and equality in mind?” John said, as loudly as the woman had.

“Of course, though they were hypocrites like many people still are today, considering they fought for their own equality while owning my ancestors. To think, we live in a country where people can openly love their spouse, but be commented on by someone doing the exact same thing we’re doing,” Xander replied.

“Yes, but it is our job to make our country into one we wish to see, a better one for the future generations. My grandfathers fought to be able to love each other, just as we love each other today, freely in the daylight while they had to hide who they loved. It is our duty as Americans to make the country freer for each generation, and we can do that one day at a time, showing the world we will not be silenced by hateful and ignorant people who wish to silence us for simply existing,” John stated, pulling Xander in for a kiss, which Xander happily accepted.

The woman gasped as if they’d said something against her specifically, and stormed out of line, followed by her husband and children. They snickered as the line moved forward and the person behind the previous family gave them a thumbs up. That routine was one they’d done plenty of times in the past, and would surely continue to do. Oh well, they would do it as long as they needed to, in order to make their country a better place. They loved each other, and that was all that mattered, really and truly mattered.

\---

Being separated from the rest of the squad in a farm in Minnesota was not ideal. That said, it was exactly where he found himself to be. Their alien enemy was hiding somewhere on the farm and in a moment of chaos everyone had been scattered. Xander had no idea where anyone else was, and was not happy about that, but he had a job to do and he would do it. He was a competent field agent after all, he could do his damn job without his hand being held.

Xander cautiously entered a barn and began to look around, gun drawn and aimed ahead of him. He, quite frankly, hated farms. He was allergic to hay and the barn was literally full of the stuff. His nose was already stuffing up. Great. Xander assumed animals spent time in the place, it certainly smelled like it, but they were currently not in there, so he was left alone with the hay and the silence of the place around him.

As he went to check down a hallway between what seemed to be stalls of some sort, he was tackled from the second floor of the barn. Xander, only slightly startled given that he’d been prepared for an attack, rolled them both over so he wouldn’t be on the bottom. The alien kicked Xander off of him and scrambled to stand, hissing. Xander aimed his gun at the humanoid, but didn’t have a chance to shoot before he was tackled once more. This time, the creature managed to shove his hand inside of Xander’s vest, causing him to hiss from the sensation of the fungus latching onto him. Xander kicked the thing away and shot it in the head before collapsing in a heap.

He had a limited amount of time before the fungus took over his mind, but the dang stuff caused numbness to spread from the point of contact, and it made using his right arm specifically difficult. Fucking hell, just his luck. With a struggle and using his left hand, he pulled out his work phone, a radio telephone like John’s, except with smart technology rather than buttons because he wasn’t a grandfather. “John, I killed it. I’m down. In a barn. Please hurry. Love you,” he said as John answered the call. Xander hung up directly after though because he knew the call would just distract them both from what was important at the moment. Minutes passed and things steadily blurred more and more.

Any threat that impacted people psychically was inherently a bitch. Those were the facts. The fact? Psychic threats were bitches. As John would say, they were cowards of the highest degree who used the bodies and minds of others to meet their end goals. As a whole, Xander thought he agreed with that assessment. At the moment though, Xander wasn’t thinking much of anything. He was distantly aware of the fact that he was laying on the ground in an uncomfortable manner, oh, another fact. Wonderful.

What were some other facts? Facts were nice to have and useful to share.

Fact: the alien they were sent to kill could infect the minds of others with a touch, causing them to slowly have their minds consumed if they fell asleep. Fact: The touch of the creature caused the body of the one touched to collapse and their mind to slow to a stop as they were forced to fall asleep. Fact: Xander had no memory of how he ended up on the ground and couldn’t really think enough to find that concerning. Fact: He was staring at the ceiling of the barn he had found himself inside and felt his eyes struggling to stay open.

“Xander!” a voice shouted. Oh, that voice was familiar. That was a fact, a nice fact. The voice was concerned, also, it sounded. Not a nice fact.

A face appeared above him, one with a silly hat on and a beard and his hair pulled back. It took far too long for Xander’s mind to process the fact that it was John sitting beside him, trying to get him to respond by shaking him. A fact! It was John! John was his husband. He loved John more than anything.

“Xander, come on, can you hear me?” John asked, gently patting his face.

That woke him slightly, and Xander blinked a few times, attempting to get his eyes to focus on the man in front of him. It wasn’t an easy task, but he managed it after a few moments of effort. “Hey,” he finally said, distantly noting that he sounded high or drunk.

“Hey, can you tell me how long you’ve been down?” John asked as he began to feel over Xander’s skin to find where he had been touched.

Xander knew that there was a specific amount of time it took for the... the... thing, the thing to make the person fall asleep, but he couldn’t remember how long that was, nor could he even begin to understand how long he had been laying there. Oh, sleep sounded nice, he was so tired. He had to respond to John though, after that he could sleep. “No.”

He heard John take a deep breath and breathe out slowly as he uncovered Xander’s shoulder to reveal the spreading fungus like material from the spot. Xander couldn’t see it, nor could he feel it, but it must have been enough to upset his husband. Perhaps the long pause between the question and the answer upset him as well, though Xander hadn’t meant to pause for so long. “I need you to stay awake, alright? I’ve got Schaeffer on her way, you’re going to be fine, Xander. I just need you to stay awake. Can you tell me the facts you know?”

John wanted to play the fact game, that was nice. Xander liked the fact game, it helped him calm down when he was panicking and helped him stay aware when his body didn’t want to. Unfortunately, his eyes were refusing to focus again. “... Fact... I got touched...”

“Yes indeed, where?” John asked.

It took Xander a moment to process the question then think of an answer. The parts of his mind that would tell him that was concerning were turned off at the moment, so he just stared blankly upwards as he fought to keep his eyelids open. “... Shoulder?”

“Good job, it’s your right shoulder,” John said, shaking him slightly in an attempt to keep him awake.

“... Fact... ... I’m... so... tired...” Xander mumbled. His eyes just wouldn’t stay open, there was nothing he could do. He was scared, distantly, but another wave of calm confusion flushed from his shoulder and nullified the fear.

“Hey! I said stay awake!” John said, shaking him again, harder this time.

He sounded scared, Xander noted, and he forced his eyes open once more in an attempt to comfort his husband. It was too much to try and speak, but the fact that he reopened his eyes seemed to relieve John enough for the moment. Things were growing blurry in spite of his eyes being opened, and he tried his best to maintain his sight on his husband, but everything seemed to be fading into black.

\---

The next time Xander was aware, he was curled up on a hospital bed. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, and he barely remembered what had happened, but he knew it had to have been bad. There was thick bandaging on his right shoulder, and it felt sharply numb if that made any sense. He wasn’t sure he could make sense at the moment, with how stuffed his head felt. John was slumped low in the chair beside his bed, sound asleep. Good, he’d managed to get some sleep. John was safe. They were both safe.

“John?” he said, his voice slurred more than Xander had expected it to be.

There was an intake of breath as John woke up, blinking and clearing the sleep from his mind before realizing what had woken him. He smiled gently at Xander and stroked his cheek. “Good afternoon, Xan. How are you feeling?”

It took a moment for Xander to process the question and then formulate a response, but John didn’t seem surprised or concerned by that. Side effect of… whatever then, right? It had to be. “Fluffy,” he mumbled.

“Fluffy?” John asked with a smile still, continuing his comforting gesture. “You aren’t going to remember a word of this conversation later, did you know that?”

Xander smiled back. If John could smile then everything would be okay. “Head’s fluffy.”

“Is that so?” John asked. “Your eyes are incredibly dilated.”

“Thanks,” Xander said.

“You are quite welcome. The swelling is going down, we managed to get the stuff off of you before it took root too deeply in your mind, but you are going to be very out of it for the next few days,” John explained.

“Yeah?” he asked, believing him but having no idea what was going on.

“Yes. The mission was three days ago, you slept through the first two. You’ve been waking up off and on today and we have had this conversation three times now, but you’re not going to remember any of this the next time you wake up,” John said affectionately. “You do look very cute though, it’s the same expression as when you are drunk.”

That was too much information for Xander to process at the moment, so he just smiled hazily at his husband. John was so handsome and wonderful, Xander thought he was the most amazing person ever. “You’re good,” he slurred, completely skipping over John’s last statement because he just couldn’t understand it.

“Am I?” John asked.

Xander nodded. “And handsome.”

“Two word sentences, Xander, I am impressed. You have given me three of them now, that’s the most you’ve said all day,” John said.

“Love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you too, Xan. You can go back to sleep now,” John said, kissing his forehead.

Xander nodded and allowed his eyes to slip shut once more. Staying awake was incredibly difficult, and if John said he could sleep then he would. They would go on to have similar conversations for the next day or so, until his head began to clear any. It would be a few days more until he was anywhere near coherent, but it was a wonderful opportunity to spend a week off of work cuddling John all day long. That would be worth the confusion in any scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is so Soft in the end because he knows Xander will be okay and that he's really out of it at the moment, and that out of it Xander responds best to him being Soft. Otherwise he tends to spiral with worry because he's confused and disoriented and can't think enough to understand what's going on. The best thing John can do is to be very soft and clear that everything is okay, saves everyone panic.


	4. We Were Young Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is forced to go to a party by his fraternity, gets pushed into drinking too much, and Xander helps fix the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is cute. It takes place BEFORE John tells Wilbur that he met a guy, which makes that scene much funnier because he mentions the event, but uhh... alters a few facts because he doesn't want his dad to know he got drunk even though he's legally old enough to do so in this story.
> 
> Alongsufferingwriter asked for Xander being protective of John! Thank you for reading the story and I hope you like how I filled your prompt!
> 
> Warnings! Alcohol consumption, getting drunk, over stimulation, homophobia, internalized homophobia, past bullying mentioned as a result of ableism, vomiting.

John was, technically, a frat boy. He'd joined a fraternity for the brotherhood there and while that happened, there were also other things that came along with it. Parties. John didn't exactly like parties. They were loud and crowded and terribly overwhelming. He couldn't stand to be in them for longer than necessary, and only went when it was required.

"Come on, John, try a drink, it'll make you loosen up," one of his brothers said, hanging him a cup of something.

It was a recruitment night, he had to stay at the party to watch out for the recruits and to 'show solidarity'. Reluctantly, John sniffed the cup and took a sip. His nerves were already fried and the party had only been going on for an hour. He had no intention to drink a great deal, especially not since Xander had promised to come. Still, he knew alcohol could calm nerves, and that would be useful for the current situation. John knew he shouldn't drink the concoction his fraternity brother handed him, but he didn't know much about alcohol and they did.

He drank from the glass and took part in the party around him. When his glass was empty, it was replaced with a new one, so he continued. It wasn't long before he started feeling the effects, and he wondered what was in his glass. John did 'loosen up', growing more talkative and comfortable. The party was still overwhelming, but he didn't care quite as much. He knew he likely shouldn't drink anymore, but his glass was full again and they were acting like they liked him, so it was hard to say no.

John didn't have friends in high school, he had bullies. He stood up for himself, but it didn't stop them from disliking him. They just didn't like him, he was strange, he was too weird to have friends. The frat was his first group of friends, ever. Even then he wasn't sure if they actually liked him, or if they only talked to him because he was part of the frat. That made it very difficult to turn them down, especially now that he was inebriated.

"John?" a voice called.

"Xander!" John said, incredibly happy to hear the voice of his friend.

Friend? Were they friends? They'd gone on two dates now, and had hung out a great deal outside of that. They were certainly more than friends, but they weren't boyfriends or anything yet. Yet. John liked the idea that they could be more. He liked Xander quite a bit. Xander was one person who he questioned the true intentions of. He clearly said he liked him, and wanted to spend time with him. Xander liked him! How exciting!

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, I had to finish my homework," Xander said, putting a hand on John's arm.

"I'm glad you're here," he replied. John knew his face was warm, both from the alcohol and the touch. He couldn't help it, Xander was just so handsome and nice. "You're very handsome."

"Am I?" Xander asked, looking both amused and concerned. "Are you drunk?"

"I've had alcohol," John said. He had no idea if he was in fact drunk. The nice feeling had passed a glass or two ago, but he still had a cup in his hand and he thought he was supposed to drink it.

Xander gently took the glass from him and sat it down on the table beside him. "Why?"

"It's too much," he slurred, gesturing at the party around them. "They said it would help."

Xander was frowning now, and placed a hand on his cheek. "It's too much? Too loud and busy?"

John nodded, swaying on his feet and closing his eyes. He didn't feel well now, and Xander was incredibly comforting. Realistically, he knew he shouldn't trust him too much, because nobody was truly trustworthy besides Wilbur, but Xander had never done anything to make him think he shouldn't trust him. He was being soft and kind and some part of him told him to trust Xander to help him in their situation.

"Do you want to leave? We can go up to your room, or go to my dorm," Xander said, stroking John's cheek gently with his thumb.

He knew he shouldn't go to the dorm room of someone when he was drunk. It didn't matter that they were both guys, he'd heard the stories and the warnings, he knew he shouldn't. But, Xander had never given him any reason to doubt him, or worry. John didn't know what to do, he couldn't think clearly enough to judge what was right to do. He held onto Xander as he swayed, uncertain and steadily growing more overwhelmed by the situation he'd found himself in.

_Trust Xander._

"Webby?" John asked. She didn't speak to him much, especially not since he'd become an adult. Webby spoke when he needed her, but otherwise left him to his own devices. It had likely been years since he'd last heard from her.

"What?" Xander asked, brushing John's hair back with concern.

_Love Xander, trust Xander. Xander is yours. You are his._

John blinked at that before nodding. "I'll explain when the world's not spinning," he said.

"Okay, do you want to get out of here?" Xander asked again.

"Yo, what the fuck?" John's fraternity brother asked. "Are you two fucking gay or something?"

"Are you the one who convinced a brother to drink and continued to give him alcohol until he could barely stand up, knowing fully well that he has never drank before and that he was willing to do what you asked to make you like him, because he was overwhelmed by a situation you forced him into?" Xander shot back.

"I didn't tell him to drink! He chose to!" the brother cried.

"You put it in his hand and told him it would make him feel less overwhelmed by a situation you told him he wasn't allowed to leave, and you're going to pull that bullshit excuse?" Xander retorted. "I'm sure the school will love to hear about this, on a recruitment night of all nights. Aren't we a dry campus?"

"Look, man, John is a brother, he had to be here, and I handed him a cup, but I didn't force him to do anything. We don't need to go to the school about this or anything," the brother said, holding up his hands.

"And you continued to put cups in his hands as he progressively got more inebriated to the point that he can barely stand up or hold a conversation. You're gonna be lucky if he doesn't end up in the hospital. Either way, his dad, a colonel for the United States army, is going to be specifically on your ass. Even before that, I'm here, and I personally will kick your ass if you ever try anything like this again," Xander stated.

The fraternity brother didn't take kindly to that threat. He had been drinking as well, so he thought the best course of action was to try and punch the nerd who showed up to ruin his fun. Xander, having taken self defense courses growing up, easily avoided the drunk man and punched him straight in the nose, knocking him down. The brother landed on his butt and clutched his bleeding nose, stunned. Xander, holding onto John, glared at the rest of the room as if daring them to step forward, before gently guiding John out of the house.

"That was… very hot," John slurred as Xander put John's arm around his shoulders.

"You paused just there as you were talking," Xander noted, pulling John along with him. "I'm guessing you only do that when you don't feel well."

"Am I going to the hospital?" John asked.

"You shouldn't need to, unless there's more alcohol in your stomach that isn't in your bloodstream yet. Hopefully it won't be much more, you should be fine, though you might not remember tonight when you wake up in the morning. Currently we're going to my dorm, is that alright?" Xander asked.

John nodded. "I can trust you. You're good. I like you. Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

"Why don't we have that conversation when you aren't drunk?" Xander said, struggling to get the door unlocked and hold up John at the same time.

"Webby says that I'm yours and you're mine. I don't know what that means right now, but you should know so one of us remembers. She says I can trust you," John said.

"Who is Webby?" Xander asked as he struggled to get John up the stairs.

"She's an… inter-dime-shonal being. She's good," John tried to explain.

"Is it one of your things?" Xander asked, referring to John's abilities and the stuff that came along with them.

John nodded and yawned. "I don't feel well."

"I know, Honey, I'm sorry," Xander said as they reached his dorm room.

With some difficulty he managed to get the door open and John inside. He sat John down on his bed and grabbed some of his baggie clothing for John to sleep in. Xander helped John change and made sure he drank a glass of water and ate as many pretzels as he could before tucking him in. He sat his emptied trash can beside the bed and changed himself, getting ready for bed.

"Are you sleeping with me?" John asked sleepily.

"No, I don't have a roommate, so I have an extra bed. I don't want you to wake up in the morning and panic," Xander explained, turning off the light and climbing into the other bed in the room, which also had sheets and pillows. "You stay laying on your side, you hear me?"

John mumbled a reply but fell asleep, on his side, before he could clarify. He'd meant to say that he could fall asleep anywhere, and that when he did, he rarely moved at all in his sleep, but he was in the middle of falling asleep at the time and couldn't complete the thought. If Xander was concerned, John didn't know, because he remained asleep for quite some time.

\---

John did not want to wake up that morning. His head hurt and he felt terrible, like his head was going to explode and his stomach was going to expel itself from inside him. He groaned and pulled his blankets over his head. Doing so, he realized they were not _his_ sheets, then realized he was not wearing his own clothes either. He tried to remember what had happened, but all he could recall was bits and pieces of drinking and then Xander punching somebody.

“Xander?” he called as quietly as he could. Between his headache and the aftermath of hours of over stimulation, John just couldn’t handle anything louder.

He heard some shuffling in the room, then a door opening and closing, then it opening and closing quietly again, and footsteps approaching him. “Hey, John, I got you some water, can you drink it for me?” Xander asked in a whisper.

John reluctantly sat up, but his head spun and his stomach protested. He found a plastic thing shoved into his hands, just in time for his stomach to expel everything inside of it. Xander held his hair out of the way, rubbing soothing circles on his back. When John finished, Xander disappeared for a moment, exiting and entering the room once more before placing a freshly damp washcloth on John’s face, washing it gently.

“You’re okay, everything’s okay,” Xander whispered, “I’m sorry I don’t have any hair ties, I’ll have to get some.”

“Where are we?” John mumbled. He was still sitting up, but had absolutely no idea where he was.

“My dorm. I thought it would be better to come here rather than going upstairs last night because they were being so noisy. Your breathing is fine, your temperature is normal, you woke up fine and you haven’t had any seizures, so you should be alright, it’s just going to be a nasty hangover. We’ll wait a few minutes and try drinking some water, then we’ll see about getting some tylenol in you, does that sound okay?” Xander asked, setting up his pillows behind John.

John hummed in agreement, leaning back against the pillows. He remembered that Webby said he could trust him, that he could love him, and how Xander had helped him the night before. Xander was helping him now, had chosen to get him out of the situation he’d been in rather than dumping him in his room. He was still gently wiping his face with the cool cloth with a hand on his shoulder. God, how had this happened? They weren’t even dating and Xander was being so dear. How had he managed to meet someone so great when he hadn’t even been looking?

“I’ll be right back, I need to clean out the can and get this wet again, can you try and sip on the water for me while I’m gone?” Xander asked, placing the glass in his hands.

John hummed in agreement again and took a sip as Xander left. He found that he was incredibly thirsty, but he knew better than to chug water after throwing up. When Xander returned, he once again placed the cloth on his forehead and sat on the side of the bed, gently stroking his knee in a comforting manner. John thought Webby might be right, that this might be love.

That was a strange concept for John, he’d never been in love before. He’d never dated in high school, staying firmly in the closet as to prevent any further bullying. Not even Wilbur knew he was gay until after he’d graduated. His grandfathers knew; they’d been the first ones he’d come to when he started realizing his feelings for men might be more than just admiration. Otherwise, he’d been fairly deeply in the closet even in college, afraid it would get back to the military or that his frat brothers would find out.

Xander though, Xander was the exception. He’d agreed he’d wait to date until after he’d gotten a commission in PEIP, but then he met Xander. Xander had been so quiet the day they’d met, but he’d still taken part in the project and given him ideas, and defended him from the girls who kept hitting on him even though it opened him up to their attacks. John had to get his number, he had to ask him out. He just had a good feeling about him, especially after what he’d just seen, and some part of him screamed that he couldn’t risk losing him, losing contact, losing touch.

Every single day afterwards, that feeling proved accurate. Xander would debate him on things, keep up with him in conversations. He was learning what John could and could not stand, and was learning to work around it. Xander was funny, and smart, so incredibly smart. He could talk circles around anyone, anywhere, and he would go on long tangents about science that John couldn’t understand, but he loved to hear it anyway. John, for his part, had started figuring out how to help Xander when he was getting anxious, and had already, after maybe two weeks of knowing him, become the person Xander went to when he needed support. He had learned Xander’s favorite foods and convinced him on more than one occasion to treat himself.

Was that love? What was love? Love was Wilbur kissing him on the head and saying he was proud of him, love was Wilbur screaming at his principle to do something about his bullies even though nothing would be done, trying his best to protect him. Was love also listening to someone talk about physics for hours even if you don’t get it, because you like to hear the person’s excitement? Was love also literally everything Xander had done in the last twenty four hours? Was love agreeing to go to a party even though you hate parties, so that the inviter wouldn’t be alone? Was love taking that person home with you and tucking him into your bed, then comforting him through a hangover?

Was love a basket of fries and a bowl of soup?

“Do you like me?” John asked.

Xander looked taken aback by the question and took one of John’s hands into his own. “Of course I like you. I like you a lot.”

“I think we should be officially boyfriends, because I think I may be in love with you, and that seems like the reasonable course of action,” John said, staring at his glass of water.

Xander tilted his head up so John would meet his eyes, smiling softly. “We’ve known each other for two weeks, John, and you already think you love me?”

“I do. I don’t lie, not unless I can't help it. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it,” John said firmly.

He was quiet for a moment, gently guiding John to sip on the water again as he seemed to think about the statement. Finally, Xander said, “I think I’d like to be your boyfriend too.”

Cautious, careful Xander who only ever rushed into action to defend himself or others. John didn’t expect he would be ready to say he loved him yet, he knew Xander would likely have to spend an entire weekend thinking about it, making charts and debating with himself about whether he loved John or not. It would all likely happen while John was in the room with him, providing coffee and watching lovingly as Xander muttered to himself, doing the math.

“I think that would be acceptable for both of us,” John agreed. “I do not recommend we kiss at this time, however, considering.”

“Considering you threw up while sitting on my bed and currently feel like shit? Yeah, probably not the best time for kissing. Can I kiss your forehead?” Xander asked.

“You may. I give you a blanket permission to kiss my head however you please,” John said, smiling a bit.

Xander leaned forward and gently kissed John’s forehead. John wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he was certain that this was the beginning of something beautiful, something vital to his life and his future. That didn’t scare him though, not like he’d thought it would. No, he felt relieved. If he was meant to go through life with someone as wonderful as Xander, he was glad he’d found him so early. John didn’t think there was anyone else in the world he would rather have beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the time he tells Wilbur that Xander exists, they're already dating. John does not mention that fact. He also says that Xander talked about string theory at a party John invited him to. Uhhh lmao no.


End file.
